Finn Hudson, Breadstix, and a Baby Grand
by pbandfluff
Summary: Finn is being an idiot, and Quinn's taking shelter in the choir room. Only, Rachel's still working on her song. Faberry fluff surrounding "Get It Right".


Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't own the yellow hat, don't own Faberry, wish I did.

A/N: I believe it was marshmallowhobo who mentioned something about wanting a Faberry moment and the reveal of this song. I know Quinn may seem a bit OOC, but honestly, I could write a whole novel on her journey to self-discovery. Enjoy.

Quinn was stalking her way towards the choir hall, calling down the powers of every saint she could think of to punish Finn Hudson. That the boy was dim was no new revelation, but the fact that his stupidity reached the bottom most levels was infuriating.

The boy in question (and Quinn was quick to emphasize "the boy" in her head, because she was sure no man had ever been so idiotic) had cornered her after last period, wanting to talk. Quinn was apprehensive, but tired and ready to go home. She acquiesced and quickly followed Finn to a quiet corner of the English hallway. When Finn turned to face her, Quinn knew this conversation could not end well. Finn was wearing his stupid failure of a copy of Puck's jerk smirk; a face Quinn only knew he put on when he was absolutely sure of something. And Finn Hudson was usually only ever sure about something if it involved food, video games, and feelings.

Nine times out of ten he was dead wrong.

"I got us a reservation for Friday."

Quinn blinked slowly, trying to remember if she had agreed to anything for Friday.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Finn tried his smirk again, "For Friday. Our date. Breadstix, seven o'clock."

Quinn sucked in a quick breath as anger flared up. He wasn't really trying this, was he?

"Finn," she started slowly, "What are you doing?"

Finn paused, confused, before smiling. Oh god, not that smile. This was Finn's "it's ok that you don't understand, I'll explain" smile, and it usually signaled the beginning of disaster.

"Now that you and Sam aren't dating," he said, reaching out to take her hand, "You can date me. Sam's got Santana, Rachel's gone all diva again, and you and me are together, like we were. Like we're supposed to be."

She knew his smile was supposed to be disarming, comforting even, but all Quinn could think of is how many ways she could turn that smile into a grimace.

"So let me get this right," she hissed, letting her inner bitch run free, "You've decided that since my boyfriend dumped me for my former co-captain, and your ex-girlfriend seems to be over you, and you are so sure you're over her, as well as me being over Sam, that we're now dating?"

Finn smiled faltered, "Uh, yeah. You kissed me. I kissed you. You want to date me. I want to date you. Right?"

"Wrong," Quinn just about roared, advancing on the taller boy, "So shut up and listen, _Finnocence_!"

Finn's eyes widened at the insult, but Quinn pressed on, "Let me explain something to you. When a girl tells you they are thinking about something, when _I_ tell you I am thinking about something, I am thinking about something! There might have been a chance that I would leave Sam to be with you, but now we'll never know because you kept pushing me. You… You know what you did? You did to Sam exactly what Puck did to you and what Rachel did to me. You convinced me to cheat on my boyfriend."

Finn's face was shifting between guilt and anger, but Quinn was on a roll, and was finally giving voice to things she had been holding in.

"You lied to Rachel about having sex, and yet when she tried to get her revenge, and failed I might add, you immediately dumped her because she almost, Finn, _almost_ betrayed you. But here we were, me in a relationship, and you have no problem tempting and succeeding in getting me to cheat."

"It's not the same!"

Quinn reared back, not believing what she was hearing.

"Not the same? How is it any different?"

"She lied to me! She cheated on me with Puck," Finn whined.

"You slept with Santana! And lied about it!"

The ensuing silence snapped Quinn's brain back into place. This was Finn she was arguing with, she wasn't going to get anywhere with him.

"I'm tired, Finn."

She really didn't want to go into this, but Finn was acting like a child and this was perhaps the only way to make him understand.

"I'm tired of relationships. Every one I've had I've sabotaged in some way. And why? I wasn't even interested in them in the first place."

She tilted her head to look Finn straight in the eye, "We are not good for each other. Not as boyfriend and girlfriend. We've hurt each other too much to have any sort of good relationship. You're a good guy, Finn, but not for me. And I'm not the one for you."

Finn was silent, and Quinn took it as a good sign. Maybe this would end the constant tug-of-war between the two of them.

"You are such a bitch!"

Quinn's head snapped up. Oh, _hell_ no.

The next few minutes were a blur to Quinn, but she knew she slapped Finn, if only by the continued tingling in her palm. She vaguely remembered a shouting match, with her slinging accusations and Finn wailing about how everyone was out to hurt him. There might have been another slap, and then she was taking off, trying to put as much distance between the ogre of a boy and herself.

Flicking her wrist impatiently, she checked her watch and found herself with another half-hour before her mom came around to pick her up. Of all the days for her to accept the offer of a ride… Still fuming, she approached the choir hall, her hiding place of choice, knowing that Finn would never expect her to come back to the place she so vocally declared hating. The truth was far from it.

The choir hall was empty most times, and something about all the instruments gave the room an air of untapped potential. Quinn did a lot of good thinking in the choir hall, and a lot of good piano practicing. She was fairly certain Brad had noticed someone using his baby, but he had yet to approach her and question anything.

Still running hot from the fight, Quinn flung the door open, barreling into the room.

Realizing Rachel Berry was already in the room was startling, but watching her as she jumped and slid backwards off the piano bench, legs akimbo and feet in the air, to the tune of a shrieked, "Barbra, Judy, and Liza!" was priceless.

As she watched Rachel gather herself and stand, Quinn tried, really tried not to laugh. But at Rachel's frantic checking of her nose, she lost it. Bending at the waist, Quinn worried her laughter might make her pass out. Vaguely, she heard Rachel begin to giggle, then laugh as well. Minutes passed with their laughter bouncing around in the room. Taking deep gulps of air, Quinn straightened and forced back the residual giggles. She watched as Rachel attempted the same thing, a small laugh leaking through even now and then.

"I needed that," she announced suddenly, for once grateful for Rachel's presence.

"My disastrous reaction to your entrance and subsequent fall, or the laughter caused by it?"

Quinn smiled at the other girl, smirking slightly, "Both."

Rachel grinned, and it took Quinn a moment to realize that it had been weeks since the other girl had really smiled. It took another moment for her to realize she had really missed that.

"Far be it for me to overstep my bounds," Rachel started softly, hands clasped tightly in front of her, "But may I ask why you're here? Or, perhaps, why you're still here? It is well known that being in my company makes you uncomfortable. I am wondering why you continue to keep it."

Quinn began to object, but came up short when she remembered she had actually said Rachel's presence made her want to punch the girl in the face. It hadn't been one of her finer moments.

"Piano," she gritted out, starting to regret coming here.

"Piano? Why… oh!"

Rachel glanced from the baby grand to Quinn, and back again.

"I'll, um… Let me just get my things…"

As Rachel scurried over to the other side of the room, Quinn plopped down on the bench, noticing for the first time the pages strewn across the music rack. Natural musical curiosity getting the best of her, she began to plink out the notes on the first sheet. Continuing, she didn't notice Rachel slowly moving in until the girl set a hand on the edge of the lid.

Lifting her head, she nodded at the music, "What is this? A solo for you at Regionals?"

Rachel blushed, hand twitching slightly towards the sheet music, "It is for Regionals, but I… I didn't write it just for me to sing."

Quinn hummed in response, running a practiced eye over the chords and rhythms before Rachel's statement set in.

"Wait," she exclaimed, "You _wrote_ this? This is original?"

Quinn could tell Rachel was trying to decide whether to be offended or embarrassed, the brunette's fingers reaching up to push a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"With Coach Sylvester running Oral Intensity," Rachel began hesitantly, "And planning on using 'Sing' as their interpretation of anthem, I thought our only chance of winning stood with an original song. I know that everyone in Glee voted otherwise, but I began writing anyway. I had just put the last touches as you came in."

Quinn turned her focus back on the music in front of her. The song was good, really good.

"Does it have lyrics?" she asked offhandedly, playing through a few measures to nail down the rhythm.

"Yes," Rachel whispered, completely absorbed in Quinn's playing.

Quinn smiled slightly, stopping suddenly and startling the brunette.

"Well," she drawled, "Are you going to sing it for me, or what?"

Rachel visibly paled, head twitching back and forth in denial. Suddenly, she lunged for the sheet music, shoving it into an unruly pile and slapping it onto her books and binder. Quinn's hand darted out to catch the brunette's wrist before she could make her escape.

"Calm down there, Berry. I just asked you to sing the song. Usually you'd be halfway through the thing by now."

Rachel was very still, staring at the place that Quinn's fingers wrapped around her wrist. Quinn waited, and waited, and yet Rachel didn't move or speak. Impatient with the brunette, Quinn had just made up her mind to let Rachel leave and practice on her own when the brunette began talking.

"I know I said I wrote this for Glee," Rachel began, nearly whispering, "But I… I still hadn't decided whether or not to say I had written it."

She moved her gaze to Quinn's face then quickly dropped it to the floor, "The song says quite a bit about me. I find it more than adequate as an anthem, but I worry it will only lend itself to being more ammunition for the rest of Glee."

Quinn didn't understand; how could one song make Rachel so worried?

"What'd you put in the song, Rachel? All our dirty secrets?"

The brunette's eyes snapped to Quinn, only to find a wide, teasing smile on her face. Quinn gently pulled the sheets of music from Rachel's hands and reset them on the music rack.

"Sing the song," she requested lightly, "And let me be the judge."

Rachel let out a strangled laugh, "That's what I'm worried about."

Quinn paused, hands resting heavily next to the music. She knew exactly what Rachel was referring to. Her eyes closed tightly as she ran through all the years of torment she had reigned down upon Rachel. She wanted to believe she wasn't that person anymore, but a few months of 'good behavior' couldn't undo all the damage she had wrought. Quinn knew, every time she looked at Rachel, that the cowed and fearful girl that sometimes emerged from the brunette was a creation of her own doing. She hadn't been lying when she told Finn she needed time to think. There were so many things, from Finn, to Sam, to school, Cheerios, Glee, and even Rachel. Although, Rachel had been a last minute addition to the list.

"When I was little, like maybe a toddler," she heard herself begin, not really sure where she was going with this, or why she seemed to be so loose-lipped today, "My parents convinced me that chocolate was horrible tasting, that it made you all kinds of sick. And I was a kid, what did I know? I believed them."

She covered her face with her hand, laugh slightly, "Eventually I tried some and figured out they were wrong, but in third grade, you remember that Valentine's Day party? I tried to eat as much chocolate as everyone else."

"You were absent the next day," the brunette cut in, blushing slightly afterwards.

Quinn smiled, "Yeah, I was. I got so sick overnight my mom kept me home. My body still can't handle many sweets. I love chocolate, but all those reprimands somehow tricked my body into hating the stuff. Even now, I still can't eat much chocolate."

She waited, hoping Rachel would understand where she was going. But the blank look on the Rachel's face didn't leave.

Quinn huffed, squeezing her hands into loose fists, "They told me so many times that chocolate was wrong, that my body rejected it altogether, even when I knew otherwise."

She watched as Rachel's eyes lit up in understanding, before softening into something Quinn had only ever seen directed at Finn.

"They told you to hate me?"

The question was so simple, but it encompassed so much of Quinn's life. How many hours had she spent listening to her father rant and rage over the Berry's at the dinner table, while she sat there, silent? How often had she laid in bed after dinner, questioning the ceiling on whether or not her father was right? How many times had she wondered what exactly was going to send Rachel to hell? She remembered, with a startling clarity only reserved for her memories of Regionals and… _her_, every time she had ever thought of the young girl screaming in agony, burning in the hell fire of her mind, the images sending her into silent hysterics, her pillow the only witness to her late night musings. Because whatever her actions might tell others about her feelings towards Rachel, Quinn could never bring herself to condemn the brunette to the destiny of her faith. But there was image, and a need to belong, and the love she so desperately craved from her parents. Now, in the aftermath of babygate, having walked through the proverbial fire and let it burn away the unnecessary, she stood, newly cleansed and ready to reassess her life.

"As you can tell with the chocolate," Quinn said softly, "There were a lot of things they told me that I haven't managed to make myself get over."

The silence that fell was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Quinn busied herself with getting the pages to sit just right on the music rack while Rachel subtly shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"So," Quinn drawled, grasping for something to say, "What's the song about? The overt value of music and the arts or something like that?"

Rachel blushed and ducked her head, "No, actually. I, um… I wrote it after Blaine pseudo-dumped me."

Quinn paused, looking at the brunette, head tilting to the side, "I'd like to hear that story."

Rachel blushed even deeper, "Well, if I remember correctly you saw the kiss during Spin the Bottle."

Quinn hummed an affirmative, recalling the heated lip-lock, only now noticing the acute sense of… _something_… she had felt when the two singers had kissed.

"Well, it felt kind of good to kiss him," Rachel continued, voice turning bashful, "And with all the drinking I was still doing, I thought it would be good to ask him out. I called and he said yes. We were supposed to meet up at Starbucks."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was going to end the way she suspected.

"He stood you up?"

Rachel shook her head, "No. I went ahead of time with Kurt, who convinced me to kiss Blaine immediately to answer the question of sexuality."

Quinn kept her eyebrow raised, starting to feel a wave of anger towards Kurt for pushing Rachel to make a fool of herself in front of a whole room of people.

"Blaine's gay," Rachel finished in a small voice, smiling self-depreciatingly.

Fury flared up in Quinn as she thought of how humiliating it must have been for Rachel, and of how smug Kurt would have looked to be proven right.

"Remind me to talk to Kurt about keeping the diva in check," she growled out, clenching her jaw a few times.

Rachel shrugged, "It at least made for good writing inspiration."

Quinn turned to face the pages of music and took a few deep breaths. It may have seemed hypocritical, but it filled Quinn with an almost tangible anger that Rachel was so used to brushing off the bad and digging around for the good.

Taking one last deep breath, Quinn poised her fingers over the keys, looking at Rachel, "You ready?"

Rachel bit her lower lip, thinking for a moment, before nodding.

Quinn began playing, trying to keep her concentration split between the music she saw and the lyrics she knew she would hear.

"_What have I done?_

_I wish I could run_

_Away from this ship going under."_

Quinn continued to listen and play, sure that she was going to lose the battle with her tears. Every word that came out of Rachel's mouth was filled with such longing and wistfulness, and was so incredibly true for both of their lives, that Quinn wanted to stop the song, stop everything, just to give the brunette a hug. And when the words of the chorus came, Quinn understood why Rachel had kept the song so closely guarded. This was Rachel. Not Rachel Berry, not Rachel with a gold star, just Rachel, the lonely girl surrounded by walls of confidence and perseverance to protect herself. And Quinn found her wonderfully beautiful.

The music began to swell, and Rachel's voice carried with it.

"_So I throw up my fists, _

_Throw a punch in the air,_

_And accept the truth that sometimes life isn't fair!"_

Quinn had kept her eyes on the music in front of her, not wanting to miss a single note, but took a small moment to glance at Rachel, only to find the girl's eyes locked with hers, clouded with an emotion Quinn couldn't quite place.

"_Yeah I'll send down a wish,_

_And I'll send up a prayer,_

_That finally someone will see how much I care."_

As the note faded from Rachel, Quinn's fingers spluttered and stalled on the keys as her mind finally caught up with what she was hearing and seeing. The penetrating gaze coming from the brunette was not a glare, nor that dissecting look Quinn was sure was inhuman, but was heated, and fearful, and _adoring_ all at once. Rachel was standing there, singing her _soul_ out to Quinn, her song begging someone to notice her, gazing at her with more true emotion that Quinn had ever seen directed at Finn or Puck. And suddenly it all made sense: Rachel had written this song for _her_. Not for Blaine or Finn or Puck, even, but for her. Quinn felt her jaw drop as she stared at the brunette. Of all people, why her? She, most of all, deserved the other girl's wrath, not her… affection? desire?

…love?

Quinn's continued silence had alerted Rachel that something was wrong. Realization must have been written all over her as she stared, for Rachel's face slowly twisted into embarrassed shock, eyes filling with tears.

"Rachel," Quinn breathed, lifting a hand to reach out to the brunette.

The small movement snapped Rachel out of her fearful stupor. Stepping back once, she stared at Quinn a moment longer, her chin quivering.

Quinn knew that now was the time to do something. But what was she supposed to do? It wasn't like she…

Quinn looked up at Rachel again, and felt her heart clench as tears finally spilled over and tracked down the brunette's cheeks.

Oh god, she _did_ care about Rachel Berry. All those years of rationalizing Rachel's fate with God, the all-encompassing jealousy that flared when Rachel's attention was on some boy, all the different things she knew about Rachel that no one else had even guessed, the restless energy she felt when Rachel walked in a room. God, she had been, as Santana had taunted occasionally, a "fairy for Berry" the whole time.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Quinn watched as Rachel began frantically clawing for her things, gathering it all up in her arms haphazardly. If Quinn was going to say something, now was the time. But her mind remained blank, jaw still rather slack. As Rachel began to bolt from the choir room, Quinn's eyes landed on the abandoned sheet music. Rachel always said things were better expressed in a song.

"_What do you do when your good isn't good enough,_

_And all that you touch tumbles down?"_

Quinn knew her voice wasn't the powerhouse Rachel's was, and she was slightly shaky on the exact notes, but she watched as the sound stopped Rachel in her tracks.

"_Cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things._

_I just want to fix it somehow."_

Rachel began to turn, and Quinn made sure she had full and continued eye contact as she continued to play and sing.

_"But how many time will it take?_

_Oh, how many times will it take for me to get it right?"_

Her fingers slowed and stopped, and the last notes rang out as the two girls continued to stare at each other.

"I thought you wanted Finn."

"I thought you wanted Sam."

Quinn shook her head, "I don't know what I want anymore."

Silence descended again.

Quinn straightened her back, mind made up, "I don't know how I feel about you."

Rachel's face fell almost imperceptibly, before becoming stoic once more.

"But," continued Quinn, standing and coming around the piano to face Rachel, "That doesn't mean I'm not willing to think about it."

Rachel's face slowly twitched into a small smile, growing into a full-blown grin as Quinn began to smile in return.

"Are you sure?"

Those were the words Quinn heard, but she knew the question was 'Is this just a joke to you?'. Quick to reassure Rachel, she reached out and clasped the other girl's hand.

"I'm absolutely sure," she replied, squeezing her hand for good measure.

She let go and rounded the piano, gathering up the sheet music. Walking back around, she handed off the music to Rachel, letting their hands brush for longer than was necessary. At the brunette's blush and demure smile, Quinn grinned. Soft goodbyes and promises of tomorrow's Glee were murmured as Rachel headed towards the door.

"Hey Rachel," Quinn called out, an impish grin growing on her face.

Rachel turned and tilted her head in question.

"I know I shouldn't eat it," she began nonchalantly, grinning at Rachel's face flushed at the double entendre, "But I really, _really_ love chocolate. No matter what anyone says."

Rachel looked confused for a moment before absolutely beaming and letting out the tiniest squeal. Spinning around, she practically skipped out of the room, shoes squeaking as she continued down the hall.

Quinn laughed and leaned up against the piano, head tilting back in contemplation. She'd never thought she'd say it, especially considering the events of today, but God bless Finn Hudson and his crazy ideas.


End file.
